


The Ties that Bind & the Ones that Don't

by DobeTero



Series: Before I Forget-You're Related! [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Absent Parents, Fluff, Occasional angst, kid inquisitior, teen inquisitior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28690641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobeTero/pseuds/DobeTero
Summary: A series of an Inquisitor, young and old, being related in one way or another to the companions or close friends of the Inner Circle. And their dealings along with everyone else’s with it. Or simply how they don't.Some of them will be multi-chapter, others will be a single one.
Series: Before I Forget-You're Related! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102985
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. The Iron Bull

**Author's Note:**

> Bull meets his kid on the Storm Coast.

A report had come while Bull was still working with Fisher. Coming a couple months after his escapades following a visit to a brothel(called Over the River), specifically a result and an order. The woman was pregnant and keeping the kid, and Bull would not engage with the mom or kid unless left without a choice. The Qun didn’t have parents and Bull had a duty, so Bull gave a solid nod and continued forward. Reasoning that the mom wouldn’t waste her energy chasing down a mercenary client. As well as the chances of the kid ever meeting Bull were slim. 

That was eighteen years out of his mind and a mercenary company of his own later, that Bull received a new order. That he would spy on the newly budded Inquisition by guarding their Herald. 

Of course the Ben Hassrath sent in dossiers. Bull knew that his bosses in the Qun knew he was far from stupid. Taking some purposeful gaps in the information and to disregard an eighteen year no contact rule into account. Bull knew it was his kid.

Bull was no father and didn’t know how to be. And he was a spy for the Qun. Besides the kid had come this far without him.  Fortunately Bull just had to do his work, to do this job right. Not be a dad.

Bull mentally layed out all he knew about the Herald of Andraste (Who was only a week behind Krem). Simply known before as Cal Bellcourt. 

There was little detailed in actual reports of Cal outside of Jader or even their home and the brothel. Could be mom’s tight grip on her kid or Cal was content. No present or official combat training. Not a soldier, spy, or political figure in any capacity. So why were they at the Conclave of all places? Bull speculated that it could’ve been a case of wanderlust placing them in the wrong place at the worst time. 

Cal’s mother, a Rosza Bellcourt, came from drunks who drank to a house name generations in the slums. Rosza was ambitious and ended up as a madam and owner of her own-succesful-brothel, Busy Boots. Rosze didn’t want the life she had growing up for Cal no doubt, and Jader’s shantytowns would inspire any child to stay close to home of luxury. 

The little Bull had to go off on was enough. 

Sheltered, naive, and inexperienced. Could possibly be a bit of a spoiled brat even. Though Bull knew he could sell the Bull’s Chargers and himself well enough to the kid. If anybody needed an extra sword, it was no doubt them. 

The scene was set the day Cal and their entourage came, the Tevinter raiders were scouted days ago and the Chargers engaged in an upfront charge. Bull wanted to see how-or even if-Cal had a heart and head for a fight. What Bull ended up seeing was his kill reeling back with a sword in hand one moment, then limp as a halberd’s blade topped his head. 

A runtish qunari (very human in the face) with horns as long as their arms that curled up, stood at the giving end of the halberd. Barely reaching Bull’s chest with their horns, smaller than the fortress who was no doubt the Seeker. With a sharp smile and tilt of their mohawk, Cal squinted up at Bull. A tug and wet thunk, yanked their weapon from the ‘vint’s head. Greeting Bull with a raspy mix of ferelden and orlesian accent, like they weren’t in the middle of a fight. 

Saying, “I’m Cal, you’re The Iron Bull, yeah?” 

And Cal whirled around, halberd striking the stomach of an enemy who thought they were sneaking up on the tiny herald. Bull went high as Cal went low, using their weight to hoist the poor bastard up. His head rolled as Cal shoved his headless body off their weapon. Throwing themselves into the fight. Taking the heat off of the orlesian mage as they bullied and pushed off the raiders. Engaging only in a killing blow when there was a clear shot or the enemy’s guard was let down. Putting their body and blade where it was counted. Even for his boys.

Then as quickly as the fight broke out, the raiders were laid flat and Krem reported. Eyes quietly going from Cal and Bull, that if Bull was anybody else he wouldn’t have seen the cogs churning in Krem’s head. Bull would have that conversation later though. And sent Krem off. 

Cal approached, spitting off to the side. Sizing Bull up with a curious cock of the head. 

Bull could only chuckle, “To answer your question kid, yeah, I’m The Iron Bull.”

A beat.

Cal barked out a pitched laugh, “Well, I’m the Iron Cal-f then!”

Bull blinked, this was definitely his kid. 


	2. Cassandra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra has cousins. But she only has one cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be using a lot of they/them for inquisitors and relatives. Only to make it easier to project an image but also nonbinary stuff.

Cassandra knew about the countless bastards born and bound by Pentaghast blood. 

And she pitied them. She knew a gilded cage when she saw one. One had to be either selfish or dense not to realize a royal bastard’s reality. At best, a bastard is ignorant of their position. They are kept at a distance with invincible regulations. Forever hitting walls of masters they’ll never know. A pawn in a grander scheme, rarely allowed their own ideas of peace and life. But unaware of why. At worst, they know of the connection. They know of a life and family, and they’re not allowed such because of frivolous tradition. And with such knowledge, they can try to play a game where they were made to lose. Or accept the leash and distance handed to them. That they may never be more than their use in the eyes of their supposed family.

Unfortunately Pentaghast bastards practically made up pools of people in Cumberland. Countless could be relatives. At the mercy of the Pentaghast clans ire and pickings. 

Of course Cassandra knew of bastards and silk bars.

Though Cassandra did not know her cousin. Her bastard first cousin. 

It came as a...shock. For multiple reasons.

Cassandra never observed Uncle Vestalus truly dote nor court anybody living. The man appeared as pleased and content as possible at a corpse’s side. Only entertaining the living and responsibilities out of necessity. Though Cassandra heard rumors. Of those among the Mortalitasi and Nevarran Circles being encouraged to create a greater mage out of a union. Another pawn in another game. It initially sounded like a commoner’s paranoia or a templar hoping to incite hysteria. Though she was still waiting on a response from her uncle, Cassandra couldn’t deny her suspicions. 

And even if Uncle Vestalus had Cassandra’s cousin out of a fit of mutual passion and not gain, the mages of Nevarra were still under Chantry rule and Mortalitasi status quo. Uncle Vestalus was still bound by Pentaghast blood. A mage couldn’t keep a child. And a bastard had no place in the old iron thread of Pentaghasts. Except for being another faceless branch, a smudge of ink with thin blood on parchment. 

Above all else, Cassandra wasn’t too fond of her first introductions with her cousin. No older than sixteen. They were a prisoner and a mage, and all Leliana had learned at the time was their place as a Pentaghast. All she’d seen was a guilty power hungry upstart. An example of the worst the Pentaghast line had to offer. A prisoner who stood for the destruction of her values. No matter how young. 

Cassandra felt a fool in the aftermath.

And even a greater fool upon seeing all they did to help others, cleaning up messes they had no part in making. She’d stopped too low in her assumptions of the Herald. Assuming them another apathetic Pentaghast who cared only for their state in a burning world. 

The only trait of Uncle truly visible was those curious eyes, lighting up in the face of discovery. Though they were no pampered mage, they walked and held themselves like a soldier. Finding comfort in a sword sooner than a staff. 

A day after their return from the Hinterlands, Cassandra’s cousin (and now Herald) seeked her out. 

“So, we’re uh, cousins I guess?” They said hesitantly. Hunching despite their muscled and larger frame. 

“It would appear as such.” Cassandra stated more than affirmed. 

“I’m not sure how to feel about that honestly.” 

Cassandra furrowed her brow. “Did you not know you were a bastard of my uncle?”

“Not the specifics. Just how I was nobody long before I was somebody ya know.” Ah. Cassandra knew expectations with little fulfillment. 

“If it is any condolences, I don’t look to uphold any family scorn. Blood has little weight on actual matters.” 

“You mean you’re not gonna get hissy about me being a bastard, really?” They looked confused, searching Cassandra’s face for a punchline.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. Her mouth moved before her mind. “I am seventy-ninth in line for a throne I’ll never see. Whether or not you’re born by a ceremony or none. I care not.”

Their face was blank and startled, then a smile as they straightened themselves. “That’s...refreshing to hear actually.”

Distance from the Pentaghast name appeared to be a shared gratitude.

“I understand that we are strangers despite sharing a name, Herald.” Cassandra cast her gaze down. “And I have not been fair to you in the passing days. And for that I apologize.”

The Herald shrugged. “You had cause, giant skyhole and ruins don’t put a mind at ease.” They swept their arms outward. Quickly clasping their hands with a toothy grin, chirping “And hey, hopefully we can be more than our family has made us out to be and be less than strangers!” 

Cassandra opened then closed her mouth, her voice leaving her slowly “I don’t see any reason not to be.” A smile crept its way onto Cassandra’s face, holding her hand out. “If that is to be the case then, I am Cassandra.”

Cassandra barely had a moment before she was pulled into a hug’s vice grip. 

It was a touch awkward but…

“Well that’s pretty great, I’m not just Herald. I’m Ferdinad, Cousin!”

The way Ferdinad used Cousin was less like a title, a tool to break or make bonds. But a name that Cassandra had forgotten. An embrace or reach.Cassandra thought to only tap Ferdinad’s back. Unsure of all that was before them. Though one thing made itself clear to Cassandra.

Gilded cages and bastard blood could be a meeting place or a trapping. And it was the company that made the difference.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, and critiques are welcomed!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more for Cal and Bull, and others too!
> 
> Though if there's a prompt or interaction anyone has in mind, you're free to go about commenting it below. As well as leaving a kudos and any comment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
